


Wanderlust

by Sunshineshipper



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:39:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshineshipper/pseuds/Sunshineshipper
Summary: Wirt missed her. It was as simple as that and he had hoped that someday their paths would cross again. Yet for now his only contact to her was a piece of paper and words he never got a chance to say.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It'll be a multi chapter story. Be patient with me.

“Do you think that letters could cross over the wall?” it came as a quick suggestion right at the moment he was supposed to leave. A need to keep in touch with her somehow was Wirt's fuel for the bravery to ask the question. But all Beatrice responded with was a shrug. She didn't know. She wasn't even sure how Wirt and Greg managed to get over to her side in the first place. There were legends about that happening. People wander over to this world, with no clue where they were, and it was never known if they made it out or not. But stories like that were just for entertainment and she didn't believe them.

“It's possible. I mean, you're here, right?” she flicks one of her wings in his direction.

He nods before glancing back at the wall, “Yeah,” and there was something so melancholy about the way he looked.

It's not that she didn't want to keep in contact with him. That was her only fear about him going back over, that she’d never get the chance to see him again. She’d never hear his whispered poetry iten she was rested against his shoulder or the way his eyes shook when he was conflicted. And even the way he’d scoff over an insult she had said. At least with a letter, she could tell him about what's happening over here. She could even get some insight on his life over there. Honestly, it's better than the silence of not being with him.

“We… we can try. There's no problem with trying.”

There's an excited grin that pops up on his lips and she wanted to smile back, but instead she said the hardest thing, “You better get home. You probably miss it.”

He just shakes his head, mumbles something about missing it less, then he’s over the wall and out of her life.  
*********  
It's been three months since that day and still she remembers every detail. Her first action after she parted with him was to find her family. It wasn't hard due to the fact that she kept an eye on them from a distance. And when she did, she forced out an explanation on why they were bluebirds. To her surprise they weren't upset, but were relieved that they had finally found her.

‘Why didn't you tell us that to begin with? We could’ve found some way to help.’

That comment came from her dad, which immediately made her feel foolish for keeping it from them.

Her next move was to snip away all of their wings. The pain only lasted a few seconds and besides the excruciating headache she suddenly had, she was happy to be back to her regular self. And so was her family with the amount of times they cried on the way back home.

The third move, and she would never tell a soul this, was to run to her room to think of the proper words to say to Wirt if she got the chance.

Now she looks down to the blank page. Three months without a word from him. Maybe he hasn't found the time. Or maybe he just forgot about her completely. Though, she was sure that was a worst case scenario that her mind was tricking her into believing. Either way, she had to admit that she didn't do too well of a job in keeping in touch with him. What is she supposed to say? ‘Hey, Wirt. Just want to say my family is back to normal. Nothing else happened. By the way, I miss you like crazy.’

For whatever reason, she found herself writing it down with every word making her twice as anxious as the one before it.

She begged for this to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes him about five minutes to finally speak. By that time they were already at the front of his neighborhood and if she had thought he was crazy he could run the rest of the way to his house.
> 
> “There's… this girl,” that peaks her interest, “We’re friends, sort of. She's… not from around here.”
> 
> “Oh. Where is she from?”
> 
> “Um…” saying another world would be insane. Saying another time wouldn't make sense. So, he went with a half truth, “Another state.”

Wirt had wandered around the garden wall probably three times every day. Once before he walked himself and Greg to school; of course Greg was confused by this action. A second time when he had free period and his two options were to leave for the hour or stay in the library to study. It was an obvious choice really. And the third was as soon as school let out. With Greg being picked up by a neighbor who had a son the same age, he had at least two hours of time to himself. One hour was spent sitting pressed to the wall with occasional glances over it just to see what could be found. The second hour was a slow walk home sulking over the lack of contact. In those times, he could hear Beatrice's voice asking why he was being so dramatic over nothing. 

He missed that.

One particular day, he almost dozed off. It was quiet around there. No one came near the area, so the lack of conversations gave him more time to listen to the gentle breeze. Briefly he closed his eyes thinking that maybe it was hopeless to wait for a letter that might not even make it hear. Afterall, she wasn't sure even if she said it was worth a shot.

“Wirt?”

His eyes snap open, and there stood Sara. Concern growing on her features until he finally looked toward her.

“Oh,” it wasn't meant to sound as disappointed as it did, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Why are you alone?”

He shrugs, unsure of how to respond to it without sounding too crazy. And fortunately she doesn't press for a better answer. Instead, she sticks her hand out. He knows he’s supposed to take it, but he’s surprised by the gesture.

“I’ll walk you home,” she says after he’s standing next to her. Both of his hands immediately shove down into his jacket pocket.

For the first part, it was a silent walk. The one and only thing roaming around in his mind had to of course be Beatrice and wondering what she was currently up to. What was there to do over there when she wasn't trying to get two wandering boys home?

Or tricking two boys. He tries to push that thought to the farthest part of his mind. It was all resolved back then. As best as it could in a rush to save his brother and get home. 

‘Come with us.’ It had been such an in-the-moment statement for him. He bets that if he had more time, he’d never say it. Maybe he’d say thank you or even that he hopes her family problems would be resolved and he doesn't know how she’d respond to that because when he asked her to leave her entire life to be with him -and Greg, of course- she didn't scoff. She didn't call him the biggest idiot on the planet. She gave a logical reason for staying. But does that mean that if she didn't have her family that she might have considered going with him? He wasn't sure.

Hopefully.

“Penny for your thoughts?” for a moment he had forgotten Sara until her voice startles him out of his thoughts.

“It's nice weather we’re having,” yes, he is aware of how fake that sounded, but something tells him Sara wouldn't understand his dilemma.

‘I fell over the wall a few months ago and landed in another time. And there's this bird that's now a girl that I’m trying to keep in touch with.’

That wouldn't make things any better.

“It's all right,” her eyebrow hitches up and at first she looks confused, but then it melts down to curiosity, “Is there anything else, though?”

“Uh…”

“Yes,” she could tell as soon as he rubbed the back of his neck, but of course she wouldn't push for more. That's just the kind of person she is. That's why he liked Sara.

“Maybe,” he sighs, “I-It's stupid.”

“Try me.”

It takes him about five minutes to finally speak. By that time they were already at the front of his neighborhood and if she had thought he was crazy he could run the rest of the way to his house.

“There's… this girl,” that peaks her interest, “We’re friends, sort of. She's… not from around here.”

“Oh. Where is she from?”

“Um…” saying another world would be insane. Saying another time wouldn't make sense. So, he went with a half truth, “Another state.”

Sara didn't press on with that question, which gave Wirt more peace, “And what's the deal with her?”

“Well, we’re supposed to be keeping in touch by writing each other, but it's already been a few months since we last saw each other and I haven't received anything yet.

She considers what he’s said for a moment while tapping her finger against her mouth, “Why don't you start then?”

It's not like that idea didn't click in his mind, but what he was worried about with that one is that it wasn't Beatrice's plan to write each other, so what if she didn't want to? He’d write out a letter for her, probably deep and poetic, then she’d get it and maybe make fun of it. Or worse: just throw it away. Then, writing her would really be for nothing.

“Well?”

“I'm just trying to figure out what exactly to say to her. It's been a few months since we’ve talked. I mean, what's there to say?”

“‘Hi. How are you? Is life good over there?’” she laughs after a moment of saying it and he was sure she believed it was just that easy, but it's not. Because there's the possibility that the letters might not make it over. Even if they do, though, he wanted to find the right words to say.

“That's a start,” he scoffs, “but there has to be more.”

“Well, just say what you feel is right,” and she stops. Suddenly they're at his house, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Yeah, tomorrow.”

“Remember. From the heart,” she grins one more time before leaving him to himself.  
***************  
‘Hey, Beatrice. How’s it going?’

No.

‘How are things on your side?’

Nope.

‘I miss you already an-’

Definitely not. Wirt drags out a long sigh before tossing his tenth sheet of paper to the trash bin. Like the rest of the ones before, it bounces off the rim, falls onto his floor, and is now a reminder of his failed attempts of writing to Beatrice. This wasn't supposed to be as hard as it turned out to be. Because he’s talked to Beatrice - given that it was in person and the situation was entirely different from this one. In that one, the conversations mostly revolved around getting him and Greg home, only a handful of them were about his personal life.

Then, it hits him: Not but once did they discuss her own life. In fact the only thing he knew was that she was the cause for her family turning into birds. She may have mentioned having a dog once, but he wasn't sure. He couldn't imagine Beatrice with a dog because in his memories of her, she was still under a foot tall and fit perfectly in his palm. Though, her choice of a resting place has usually been his shoulder. Where he could hear every bated breath and response to his questions.

Why did that make his heartbeat skip?

Another realization had hit him as soon as he writes her name across his paper. He doesn't know what she actually looks like. Was she tall or under his height? Was her hair, whatever color it was, longer or cut short? Green or blue eyes? He doesn't even consider brown - too common and that's definitely something she's not.

Green eyes. He believes they're green. Maybe with a few specks of grey. Maybe they shake when she was excited or even aggravated. And maybe they lit up in those moments of comfort. He’s not entirely sure he’s seen her calm except possibly the one time she had fallen asleep in his lap. There was a burning fire, middle of the night, and he had lost any interest in sleeping. Greg was nearby playing in a pile of leaves with no interest in his brother. And that was fine because Wirt currently had the soft sound of snoring ringing in his ears.

Suddenly it's thirty minutes later and all Wirt had on his paper was, ‘What do you look like?”  
*************  
It took another week for Wirt to work up the nerve to go back to the wall. Fear took over. Fear that this plan wouldn't work and it’d be all for nothing. Fear that his last conversation with Beatrice was in fact their last conversation and he’d never speak with her again.

‘We can try.’ It's his push to finally go back to the wall, but this time he had to sneak out of the house. (That final push just had to come at 3 in the morning when he couldn't sleep). It would be easy since his parents were already asleep.

“Hi, Wirt!” but he didn't think about the youngest member of his household.

He’s frozen at the bottom his stairs, making sure Greg’s outburst didn't wake either of their parents before he bothers asking Greg why he’s up so late.

“I heard you moving around in your room. The noise woke me up. Why are you awake?”

‘Because I'm sneaking off to try to contact Beatrice.’

“Important teenager stuff. You wouldn't understand. Now will you go back to bed?”

Greg shrugs before running back up the stairs, “I’m coming, Funderbaker!”

It was freezing as soon as he walked outside with the snow still falling, so he wraps his jacket tighter around his torso and tries to walk through the at least foot tall snow. Was this still a good idea? Delivering the letter could definitely wait until the morning after all. It's not like it'll suddenly disappear if he waits.

Three months, though. That's a long time. He can't help but think what if she was just as concerned about the wait as he was. What if she had given up hope on him? He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't disappoint Beatrice. So, of course he keeps walking through the cold in the middle of the night to something that might not work.

He’d hate himself later. He was sure of that.

The wall seemed much taller than the last time he was here. Snow was barely covering the top making the climb to the top easier than he thought it’d be. And there it was. In an off white envelope with his name written out in cursive on the front. He wasn't crazy, right? The bitter winter hair wasn't finally getting to him? He didn't open it. Instead, he gives a look out behind the wall thinking maybe it was just placed there. Maybe he could see Beatrice, but all that was there was the trees blowing and even deeper snow.

It does work. He quickly pulls his own letter out of his pocket and places it on the wall. He’s shaking and he isn't sure if it's the cold or the realization that hit him.


End file.
